


To Beleive in Hope, Morality, and Ghosts

by IHearttheHitachiinTwins



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: And scared of ghosts, Depression, Ghost!Shane, Ghosts, Hauntings, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Serial Killer!Ryan, Serial Killers, Shane is a sassy bitch, Swearing, kinda sad, ryan is sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-17 15:30:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15464499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHearttheHitachiinTwins/pseuds/IHearttheHitachiinTwins
Summary: "Ryan doesn’t think of himself as a bad guy. Sure he… kills people… but that really isn’t the point. He makes sure that it’s people who deserve it! Corrupt cops or remorseless murderers on the run from the law. He’s just making sure that these people don’t hurt others. Innocents never deserve to be hurt, and if he can prevent that, isn’t he doing the world a service?"Ryan is happy with his life. He has his dream show, Shane, and occasionally kills people on the side. Life is good. But, one fateful accident leaves him without any of these things.Struggling to hold his life together in the face of his greatest loss, his only hope is a series of strange occurrences, suggesting that there might be a way for him to reach Shane again...





	1. Bad Medicine

Ryan doesn’t think of himself as a bad guy. Sure he… kills people… but that really isn’t the point. He makes sure that it’s people who deserve it! Corrupt cops or remorseless murderers on the run from the law. He’s just making sure that these people don’t hurt others. Innocents never deserve to be hurt, and if he can prevent that, isn’t he doing the world a service?

That’s why he’s here, listening to the gargle of a coffee maker in a tiny French café, dropping a small pill into the coffee of the man who just got up to go to the bathroom. Five time killer and pedophile Frank Gerna. No remorse in his eyes as he shot his latest victim last night. Ryan got up and left the café, his work done. Shane is outside, pacing like a caged animal. His eyes practacly glow when he sees the cup in Ryan’s hand. He meets his co-host and hands the coffee addict his fix. Shane took a deep sniff before sipping the latte.

“Ah… The nectar of the gods themselves. Thanks man.”

Ryan grins at his friend’s dramatic antics before leading the way back to the car. As far as Shane’s concerned, that’s another episode of Unsolved finished and time to go home. Ryan slipped into the front seat. The car purrs to life and the two of them are back on the road, aiming to make it home before sunset.

* * *

 

They pull up to Ryan’s apartment and clamber out of the car. They climb the stairs and Shane has to bow to avoid braining himself on the roof of the staircase.

“Your apartment building is built for midgets.” Shane grumbles with a sigh, rubbing the sore spot the most recent collision caused.

Ryan held a hand to his chest in a mock sign of offence.

“How dare you,” he gasped, “I’m letting you stay in my apartment out of the goodness of my heart, and all you can do is mock my height.”

“I wasn’t insulting _your_ height, just saying that you live in a house made for gremlins. Besides, it’s not my fault. The landlord insisted on getting the renovations done. Have you met that woman? You don’t argue with her.”

Ryan called him a wuss and kept climbing. They reached his room, and both entered the space, stepping mere feet away from one another in the whole process. Working in sync. Ryan made his way to the fridge and emerged with old pizza and beer. He held them up to Shane in a silent offering. The taller man nodded, and so they fell back into routine. Ryan smiled. He was always on edge after a kill but having Shane so close recently had helped. It was nice. He hoped the renovations took longer than expected, he didn’t really want to lose this.

* * *

 

The alcohol buzzed in Ryan’s veins. It made everything hazy and indistinct. A washboard of emotions. Anger at the world for being unjust, thanks for not being in jail, happiness at the feeling of Shane sleeping on his shoulder. The other man’s tall frame enveloped his. They fit together like two halves of a whole.

All of the emotions made his fingertips burn and his toes tingle. An itch. He knew how to scratch it too.

He stood and felt his pockets for the pill bottle. Shaking it, he found it empty, he had used his last cyanide pill on Frank in the café. That was kay, he had more in the medicine cabinet. Stumbling over and groping around, he felt his hand land on the small bottle. Withdrawing it, he grinned at the small label, proclaiming the pills inside to be aspirin. A stroke of genius, that one. No one ever though to look for poisoned pills in the medicine cabinet and certainly not the ones that were labeled as something else. He shook the bottle. Almost full.

Excellent.

He left a text for Shane, saying he would be home soon and headed out the door.

* * *

 

Ryan is aware that he’s buzzed, but his target will be dead by the time he’s done, so it doesn’t matter. He chooses someone on his list of targets close to home. Emergency targets when he gets the itch. A woman who kills and fucks and gambles her way around the city. She deserves it. They all deserve it.

He corners her in an alley between two buildings. The air is heavy with moisture and the moon is absurd by cloud. He tries to get her to take it the nice way. Smiles shyly and tells her it’s some new drug that could help take the edge off. It’s not the best plan, but he’s drunk, and has never really been a good liar. She doesn’t buy it so he tackles her to the ground. More physical than normal, but again, he’s drunk.

He places the pill in the mouth and holds her mouth shut so it stays. His eyes burn with intensity. She deserves this. She makes a face but doesn’t choke. Doesn’t die. He’s confused, but she’s realized that what he was going to try hasn’t worked and Ryan has to move fast. He strangles her. He’s smaller, but strong. He sees the light leave her eyes and the flight leave her body, but he hated getting physical. He examines the bottle and realizes he must have grabbed the bottle of normal aspirin, the cyanide must be at home. He hates things not going to plan. This kill wasn’t satisfying at all. He doesn’t feel like he’s done good, everything just feels wrong.

He rolls his shoulders and tosses his head. He needs to get rid of the body. He needs to sleep. He needs to get back to Shane and banish the strangeness in his head.

After dumping the body in a nearby dumpster, he goes back home. He creeps in, expecting Shane to have passed out on the couch some time ago. The apartment is eerily silent, and Ryan tries not to jump at shadows. Humans he can deal with, but he always has that fear that a demon will leap from the dark.

He looks for the exaggerated form of Shane on the couch. Looks for the silhouette of limbs hanging off of the couch that was perfect, normal sized, yet Shane managed to make look tiny. He looks for it, and frowns at its absence. He wonders if Shane’s passed out somewhere else after one too many bottles of beer. He hopes not. Shane’s no lightweight, and enough beer to put Shane under equates to Ryan’s whole supply.

He heads to the kitchen to check, and almost falls over the shape in the hallway, hidden in the dark. The black shape stretches on and on for half the hallway like some monstrous shadow. Looking closer, however, it has form. Shape.

He turns on the light on his phone and sees Shane’s long legs prone in the hallway. Ryan rolls his eyes affectionately.

“Seriously? Right in the hall?” He asks, voice a quiet rumble as to not wake the sleeping giant. “Honestly Shane.”

He shines the light higher, trying to find Shane’s face. Shane’s sleeping form is motionless, and seriously, how much did he drink?

The beam lands on Shane’s face and Ryan’s fond smile falls away to be replaced with a twisting mouth and wide eyes.

Shane’s eyes are not closed in sleep, but wide and panicked. The whites seem bigger as his eyelids were stretched wide and frozen in shock and terror. His lips were flecked with foam and blood, lips agape in their slackness, muscles no longer functioning to keep them shut.

Ryan looks up towards the bathroom. He can see, even from here, that the medicine cabinet is open.

Ryan stumbled back and once again tripped on Shane’s legs. They twist oddly behind him and Ryan sees for the first time that they’re not in a position that Shane, or anyone really, would find particularly comfortable. Ryan can’t even stand. He crawls towards the toilet and throws up. Retching until he has nothing left. He still wants to be sick.

* * *

 

_Shane must have fell asleep at some point, but when he wakes, he feels like something had died in his mouth. His head aches and his body click as he stretches. He feels around for Ryan but finds his phone instead of the warmth he expects. He reads he text Ryan left him. Ryan’s gone out? For what? Shane rolls his eyes, and then stops because it hurts. He needs painkillers. Stumbling towards the bathroom, he opens the medicine cabinet and searches for the aspirin. He finds a bottle near the very back of the cabinet. He pops the cap and takes two dry._

_He makes it as far as the door before he starts to feel strange. His throat was beginning to burn, really badly in fact. He coughed to try fix whatever was wrong, but that only brought something up to his lips. It was bitter and somewhat metallic. He didn’t realize he was falling until he hit the ground. He realized that he needed an ambulance, he needed one now. Hos arms didn’t want to cooperate though, and he couldn’t reach for his phone._

_He felt numbness beggin to set in and he bean to hyperventilate as breathing got harder. He was dying. He must be. He began to weakly tremble as fear overtook him. He darted his eyes round, hoping for someone, for **Ryan** to walk in at that moment. Do something. Save him. Be there._

_Oh God, he was going to die alone._

_He weakly tried to draw in another breath, but he couldn’t. for a moment, there was pain, and then there was nothing._


	2. Haunting Your Own Life

Ryan acted on autopilot. Get rid of the evidence. He flushed the cyanide pills down the toilet, called the police immediately, thanked the cop who gave him a blanket to wrap around his shoulders. She questioned him and he showed her the timestamp on the text he sent Shane. The milk and receipt for which, that he had picked up on the way back from the murder to make his story seem more believable to Shane.

As far as the cops knew, Shane was the attest casualty in a line of cyanide poisonings that had them puzzled.

Ryan knew that this was nothing like that.

* * *

 

Ryan was still on autopilot when the news went out. The hearse contacted BuzzFeed, who contacted everyone else who needed to know. Seeing it in the email made Ryan want to curl up in a ball and weep. He hated how matter of fact they were about it. Like this wasn’t some freak accident that had ruined his life. That had ruined everything.

He was given time off by BuzzFeed, and he appreciated it, except that left him with an apartment filled with memories and nothing else. He hated that too.

He tried to edit the episode he and Shane had filmed the day before, but he didn’t even make it as far as three seconds into the first clip when he realized that he couldn’t do this. Hearing Shane’s voice. Hearing him joke and laugh… Hearing him happy. Ryan didn’t deserve that. He couldn’t hear it. Something that used to bring him so much joy, now seeped in pain and guilt.

He couldn’t tarnish the sound of Shane’s laugh. He refused to.

He still saved the footage, unable to delete it.

He couldn’t bear to delete another aspect of Shane’s life

* * *

 

Shane’s funeral was rather large, despite being a private affair. Shane was loved. People came, and they cried. It was open casket, but Ryan couldn’t bear to look. Sara came, most of the BuzzFeed team came. Shane’s parents and family. All people that he had stolen Shane from.

He gave a eulogy or tried to. He started to cry in the middle and couldn’t quite recover enough to give the rest.

“He was my best- He was my boyfriend, and we never told anyone. We never told anyone because we thought we had time, and now-“

There was no catharsis in admitting the secret. They had planned a million reveals, but this was not one of them. He couldn’t give the rest of the speech, he didn’t deserve to be here.

He fled the room.

* * *

 

The fate of Unsolved came up eventually, as it was always going to. It was BuzzFeed’s most valuable asset right now, therefore making Shane one of its most valuable employees. They were eager to know just how much Shane’s loss was going to cost them. It made something dark inside Ryan hiss and spit, but he still left the email unanswered.

He couldn’t have another co-host. Unsolved was theirs, and to tarnish it with someone other than Shane… How could he? But he also couldn’t do it alone. How would he survive without his steady skeptic in the background? The idea of facing down haunted places without Shane by his side, even if his taunting of the dead gave Ryan conniptions, seemed impossible.

Everything seemed impossible these days.

* * *

 

Ryan hadn’t killed since Shane died. He couldn’t bear it. Well, he did once, but that was because The police were beginning to suspect that the cyanide killer had stopped. That Shane was the final one for some reason. The other theory was that Shane was himself, the killer, and the death had been a suicide.

Ryan wouldn’t have Shane go down in history a killer, so he grabbed one more kill. Just to prove it couldn’t have been Shane. There was no passion or real reason other than clearing Shane’s name.

He wasn’t careful about cleanup, who cared if he got caught? Not him, nothing mattered anymore.

He waited for the police to come knocking all week, but they didn’t.

* * *

 

The fandom grew restless in his silence. BuzzFeed had ensured that information wasn’t released publicly, but people started talking. Eventually, the day came where the announcement had to be made.

He set up the camera, reaching on his tiptoes to get the tripod from where Shane insisted on keeping it (read, too fucking high up). He turned it on and sat down. None of his usual energy. A solemn announcement.

“Hey guys, I uh, I have a little announcement to make.”

He started down the barrel of the camera and took a shaky breath, trying to keep the tears out of both his eyes and his voice.

“So, two months ago, Shane… Well, Shane died. And I know you’re all… waiting for the next episode of unsolved, but it might take a while, for the next one. If there is a next one. And I don’t know what will happen from here, but… Well, I just thought you guys had a right to know”

* * *

 

The reaction to the video is heartbreaking and Ryan cries again that night, falls asleep reading the comments.

**Oh my god, that’s so sad. They were so amazing, does this mean that Unsolved is ending?**

**RIP Shane, Ryan, we’re so sorry for your loss.**

**This is one very heartbroken #shaniac who is super upset to hear that our beloved leader has fallen.**

**Guess that’s karma for creating the Hot Doga, huh? Seriously though, this is really sad to hear. We’ll miss you Shane.**

Ryan can’t place why the comments make him feel so empty, but they do. It’s both nice to see that he isn’t the only one grieving, and all the more terrible. These people didn’t know Shane, not really. You couldn’t capture all of him in a video, he was too big. In spirit, in personality, in body.

As for the Hot Doga? Ryan might hate the series down to his very soul, but he would listen to nothing else for the rest of time if it meant Shane would come back.

* * *

 

Ryan’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, resignation form empty on the screen. It had been a month and he hadn’t gone back to BuzzFeed. He didn’t know if he could without Shane. He had the popularity from Unsolved, he could probably start his own series, or at least rot away until something happened.

He closed his laptop with a sigh and put it aside. There wasn’t any point on doing anything like this. He was tired. Slipping under the covers, he hid until he drifted into sleep, surrendering to dreams of Shane’s warmth.

* * *

 

**_Chat – More like BunSolved  
26 Jul – 12:37am_ **

_Shaniac739 – Hey guys, I found out that the new apartment I’m moving into? It’s Shane’s old apartment!_

_(Wheeze)likeumeanit- You kidding? Did he die there?_

_Shaniac739 – Nah, the pace was being renovated at the time. All of the tenants were out of house._

_Shaniac739 – I still get this weird vibe though._

_(Wheeze)likeumeanit – Maybe it’s haunted by Shane’s ghost_

_Shaniac739 – I don’t think so. Maybe it’s just drafty. The vents rattle like crazy, hard to believe that this place was only renovated a few months ago._

**_Chat – More like BunSolved  
27 Jul – 8:92pm_ **

_Shaniac739 – Okay, something is weird here. Remember when I said that we were moving the dresser to the bedroom because it blocked the window?_

_(Wheeze)likeumeanit – Yeah?_

_Shaniac739 – Well someone keeps moving it back. I swear, no one is touching it._

_(Wheeze)likeumeanit – Still sure it isn’t haunted?_

_Shaniac739 – It’s probably just my brother, but it’s unnerving as all hell_

**_Chat – More like BunSolved  
28 Jul – 6-19am_ **

_Shaniac739 – Holy fuck, this house is actually fucking haunted_

_(Wheeze)likeumeanit – Glad to greet you to the world of Boogaraisim, but what changed your mind?_

_Shaniac739 – I set up a camera last nigh to try see who was moving the dresser, and look at this_

_Shaniac739 – file.video-dresser.mov.93720_

_(Wheeze)likeumeanit – Holy shit_

_(Wheeze)likeumeanit – It just moved all the way down the hall_

_(Wheeze)likeumeanit – By itself_

_Shaniac739 – I know_

_Shaniac739 – Do you think it’s Shane? Should I try talk to him?_

_(Wheeze)likeumeanit – Hey, send this to Ryan, maybe he’ll want to come check it out?_

**_New Chat with Ryan_Boogara  
29 Jul – 9:28pm_ **

_Shaniac739 – Hey Ryan, I was so sad to hear about Shane. I hope you’re doing okay…_

_Shaniac739 – Long story short, I ended up moving into Shane’s old apartment, and weird shit’s been happening. Pipes keep bursting, taps don’t turn off all the way, lights flicker, and my dresser keeps moving rooms. I also hear footsteps and whispers. I took some videos…_

_Shaniac739 – file.video-dresser.mov.93720_

_Shaniac739 – file.video-lights.mov.69375_

_Shaniac739 – file.video-pictures.mov.93753_

_Shaniac739 – file.video-whispers.mov.32839_

_Shaniac739 – file.video-footsteps.mov.82038_

_Shaniac739 – I get that Unsolved is’t really a thing right now, but maybe you want to come check it out?_

 


	3. Insanity Setting In

Ryan is a believer. He believes in ghosts and love and fairytales. He likes to believe things until they’re proven false, it’s what contrasted him to Shane, who always needed to be convinced. He believes in these things with his whole heart, but he also sometimes believes things out of convenience.

Ryan is no stranger to believing something because he wants to. He has mastered the specific brand of denial that excuses terrible, terrible things; things like force feeding people cyanide.

So, when he gets the messages containing films in Shane’s apartment, all of them pointing to supernatural activity, he slams the laptop closed and leaves the room.

He can’t deal with that.

He would be lying if he said that Shane becoming a ghost hasn’t crossed his mind. Ghosts often occurred if the death was sudden or traumatic, and unexpectedly dying of poisoning like that fit the bill to a tee. Besides, it would be the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to the biggest skeptic he knows, and the universe did just adore to screw them over. That being said, in the times that it had crossed his mind, he had been terrified by the idea of what he might find.

Would Shane be angry? Disgusted? Would he even be cognizant?

The idea of seeing his Shane after death was enough of a deterrent for him to dismiss the videos, but even so…

They stuck with him.

* * *

 

Time passes and the idea hangs around in his head, like a bad smell; never truly leaving.

He imagines Shane working out how he had died and wanting revenge, being angry. He has never really imagined what it would be like to have Shane murderously angry with him, but the idea was as heartbreaking as it was frightening.

Ryan plays with the idea of going over there so many times that he has the messages running in the background of his computer constantly. He spends hours just staring at the screen, imagining going there. What he might find.

Ghosts typically hang around if they have unfinished business. If this specter is Shane, what is he here for?

He crawls back into Buzzfeed. He’s worse than useless. He edits videos for other people in a state of numbness. It isn’t bad, it just isn’t good either.

* * *

**Chat with Ryan_Boogara  
29 Jul – 9:28pm**

**Shaniac739 – Ryan, I know you never replied, but I’m serious, this isn’t a prank**

**Shaniac739 – I am certain this is Shane, and I think he’s angry**

**Shaniac739 – He keeps smashing things. My family is finding broken glass every morning, we’ve spent hundreds on the electricity bills but the lights still flicker like crazy. The TV’s stopped working and my pets won’t come out of the spare room.**

**Shaniac739 – I don’t know who else to contact.**

* * *

 

Ryan doesn’t really have a choice.

The new messages are so pleading… Even if it weren’t Shane, he would try to help. Besides, Shane was a big guy, but a gentle soul. Despite his attitude sometimes, there’s no way that he would want to be running rampant and damaging people’s things. The weight of what he’s about to do is crushing the air in his lungs and making it impossible to breathe, walk, think… But he’s going to do it. He packs up all his ghost gear, takes a deep breath, and walks out the door before he can talk himself out of it.

* * *

 

He greets the fan at the door, and she introduces herself as Cassidy. She’s not acting like fans normally do. Most of them are usually super excited or overwhelmed.

This kid just looks tired.

“My parents are out and my brother is at a friend’s house, so you can stay in his room.”

Ryan looked around as they walked.

The kid had been right. Clearly someone had tried to remodel, but it looked like someone had thrown a tantrum about it. Picture frames lay on the floor rather than on the walls. A door that wasn’t there before had been slammed so hard it was coming off the hinges. The dresser was once again where Shane insisted on keeping it. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Whether this was the result of a ghostly presence or just being here in Shane’s apartment, he wasn’t sure, but he was certainly on edge.

Ryan put his bags down in the room he had been granted for the night. It was an old room Shane had used for storage, the feeling of dread wasn’t as strong in here.

Lying back on the bed for a moment, he took a deep breath and released it.

Okay, showtime.

* * *

 

The sun was beginning to set as Ryan toted the spirit box to the dining room. Cassidy said that the activity began to get worse about this time. Ryan didn’t mention that this was about the time Shane would be getting home from work on a normal day. They sat and waited for a while, Cassidy pensive and tense. The familiar fear of ghosts running through him, Ryan was wound up like a spring. Uncomfortably tight and ready to burst.

At exactly 8:34pm, footsteps began to pad through the room and into the kitchen. The lights flickered and buzzed. Ryan almost screamed, but he bit his tongue. He didn’t have his skeptic to calm him this time, he had to be strong on his own.

For Shane.

* * *

 

_Shane is pretty sure that Ryan’s fucking with him. Every day for the past few weeks, he’s walked in from work and something’s been moved in his house._

_The dresser keeps ending up in another room. Pictures of strangers appearing on the wall. The TV turning itself on and off. He wonders what’s going on. Is this for a video? He thinks that they probably would have contacted him if they were going to invade his home, but then again, there was that one time that the Try Guys broke into Ned’s house, so maybe not._

_He gives the cameras a good show, acting silly about it and moving the items back with a fond eye roll._

_It’s when things start going missing that he starts to question if this is really a prank._

_He reaches for his things only to find them missing. Someone’s removed his bed, his clothes aren’t the closet anymore. The room he used to use for storage is empty of all of his things._

_His blood runs cold as he tries to find all the missing items. He gets frustrated. He’s tired of having to move the dresser or take down the strange pictures. He starts flinging the plates that aren’t his across the room rather than simply laying them on the counter. He tears the mirror that keeps appearing in the hall from the wall and hurls it down the stairs. He tears the new wallpaper down in uneven shreds._

_Whoever is orchestrating this doesn’t seem to get the memo that he needs them to stop now._

_He begins to panic when he can’t remember what day it is._

_Is it Wednesday? Did they have a shoot today? He feels like it’s been more than a week, why hasn’t Ryan texted him about the new unsolved shoot? Did they even upload the last one? He can’t remember editing it? Did they do the post-mortem? He can’t remember the Hot Doga from that week…_

_When had he last seen Ryan?_

_He hadn’t been at work… had he? Shane hadn’t seen him. Maybe he was working on something that took him away from his desk. What had Ryan been doing at work for the past week?_

_For that matter, what had Shane been doing at work the past week? Had he edited? Acted as camera man? Scripted? He can’t remember. He pulls out his phone, hoping to find answers._

_It says that it’s one in the morning._

_It is very clearly **not** one in the morning, the clock (that is also not his) on the wall says that it’s six in the afternoon. The sun hanging low in the sky supports that theory._

_He smashes the clock._

_Shane is going insane._

_He can’t remember leaving the apartment that morning, but he walks in at the same time every day. He’s been at work, but he never gets there. He just leaves, and then he remembers nothing until he comes back._

_He briefly considers what Ryan told him about possession. Then he instantly disregards it. Demons are bullshit, ghosts are bullshit. He really is going insane if he’s considering anything like that. More likely that he’s having a psychotic break._

_Is he having a psychotic break?_

_Shane can’t breathe._

_His reflection is missing from the mirror and he can’t find his glasses._

_He’s so confused._

_He tries calling people, but his phone has no service._

_He lashes out._

_He screams his voice hoarse and pounds on the walls until there’s holes in the plaster, but no one comes._

_He’s… scared._

_And then he hears a sound that he would recognize anywhere._

_He’s never been so glad to hear it._


	4. Fearful Ignorance is Still Comparative Bliss

Ryan listens to the spirit box with baited breath.

The strange goings on had stopped since he turned it on. The light flickering and the mess the spirit had left were the only indication that anything had happened. The usual, stuttering sound pours out of the box. For a time, it went uninterrupted, and Ryan began to get discouraged. The minutes tick on and he wonders if the sound of the box scared the spirit away. Shane had always said that the reason they never got a response was because spirits didn’t like the noise. 

Maybe he had a point.

Ryan was about to concede, reach over and turn it off, when the static broke, intterupted by something.

Ryan whips back and looks around.

It hadn’t been particularly clear, but it was different. A series of syllables coming in rapid succession, broken by static, like speaking into a microphone with bad feedback.

“Was that you?”

He asks the empty room, hoping. He waits as the box chugs along. There’s nothing for a while, and then...

…..hidd.....unde.....ble you.........pid.....hate.....ox

It wasn’t two syllable words, more like he’s only hearing a little bit of what was being said. Like someone speaking, but he only hears parts of the words.

Ryan jumps as the table suddenly up ends itself, flipping over and slamming on the floor. Ryan only just catches the box before it meets the same fate. After this display, the box starts talking again.

…...ammit R......ere.....it!

The voice on the other end sounds distressed. 

...ot funn.....ymore!.....nt........alk........jus.....

Ryan is so excited, and yet so terrified he can barely breathe. The ghost continues to destroy things. The cupboards in the kitchen fly open and things fall out as if someone is rifling desperately through them. Eventually, when holes start appearing in the plaster, like a fist has plunged through them, Ryan starts to think something is seriously wrong. All the while the spirit box keeps talking. The feedback gets louder and louder. It also seems to be getting better and better until finally Ryan gets the clearest line of dialogue from the spirit box he’s ever heard.

...top....p.....mak.....it.....stop....make....IT.....STOP..........MAKE IT STOP! RYAN I’M GOING INSANE!

Ryan jumps at the loud and sudden proclamation. The spirit box explodes in his hands, sparks flying and the machine stuttering, unbidden, into silence. The room suddenly seems too quiet.

He sits for a while, frozen, before checking the box. It’s broken. The battery either died, or something went wrong with the wiring.

It barely matters.

**Ryan, I’m going insane.**

The spirit had said that. The spirit had addressed him directly. Did it know who he was?

The irrational hope welled up again. It would explain how frustrated the ghost got when he activated the spirit box, but he still couldn’t bear to think...

He wrapped up all his things and righted the table. He did what he could to clean up and staggered off to his room for the night. He needed to sleep.

* * *

 

Ryan dreams of Shane. 

It’s hardly a rare occurrence, but this was different. Instead of writhing on the ground in agony or screaming “murderer!” upon seeing Ryan, Shane is just... there. Rocking back and forth in the corner of the room. His tall frame is curled up into a tight ball and his shoulders are shaking.

Ryan thinks he can hear Shane sobbing, but it sounds like it’s underwater. He can’t quite hear it properly, it’s too echoey.

Ryan watches dream-Shane cry for a while, before he shoots a glance at his phone. It’s 3:00am the next day, and it will be sunny, his phone cheerfully tells him.

3:00am. The witching hour. 

Naturally.

He rolls his eyes and lies back, keeping his eyes on Shane until he dissolves into mist.

* * *

 

It’s not until the next morning that he remembered that you can’t read in dreams.

* * *

 

He asks to stay more nights. The family doesn’t care. They plan to take a vacation far away from the apartment. They all look exhausted. Ryan’s resolve is set. He’ll get to the bottom of this.

He owes it to these people.

He owes it to Shane.

* * *

 

He doesn’t use the spirit box again. He can’t. It’s totally fried. Instead, he tries other methods. 

Shane is active at the same times every day and can be seen at three am for exactly one minute, before the time changes. Ryan tries to reach out to Shane. Talk to him. Apologize.

Say “I love you.”

It never works.

At first, Ryan thought Shane was ignoring him.

After four days of this, Ryan’s realized that Shane can’t see him.

* * *

 

 **Shane keeps throwing** **tantrums** **because the family was moving things** , Ryan thinks,  **maybe moving** **them back will make him happier.**

So he sets to work that day, restoring the apartment to what it was when Shane lived there.

It might have just been him, but he swore some of the furniture was easier to move than it should have been. Almost like he had a little bit of help.

* * *

 

When Ryan was done and the apartment was back to what it was, minus all of Shane’s condemned things, Ryan sat at the table and wrote a note.

**I don’t know if you can see this note, I don’t think you can see me, but Shane? If this** **is** **you? You need to know some things...**

* * *

_Shane_ _is in_ _a_ _comparably_ _good mood. Today he moved everything back to where it’s supposed to be, and while a lot of his things were still gone, what he moved had stayed there._

_Good,_ _maybe he_ _was finally getting himself together._

_He heard the spirit box a few days ago. Or he thought he had._ _Incessant_ _and_ _ceaseless_ _, he had torn the kitchen apart looking for where it was hidden._

_The noise reminded him of Ryan, and for some reason, that hurt._

_It had stopped once he had thrown the table,_ _and he hadn’t heard it since, so that was done_ _. It had been quiet since._

_Wandering into the dining room, he saw a note on the table._

_A note that he hadn’t written._

_He_ _snatched it up,_ _desperate_ _for even the illusion of human interaction. His heart soars_ _further_ _upon seeing Ryan’s handwriting on the notepad._

_He isn’t wearing h_ _is glasses, but he stretches and makes do. He needs this._

**_I don’t know if you can see this note, I don’t think you can see me, but Shane? If this_ ** **_is_ ** **_you? You need to know some things_ ** **_._ **

**_If you haven’t figured it out already, you’re dead. You died, Shane. And I miss you. So much._ **

**_You’re haunting the apartment, so guess I was right huh? Ghosts are real. Take that_ ** **_Mr_ ** **_Skeptic._ **

**_I swear, this isn’t a prank. Here's a print_ ** **_off of_ ** **_the police case for when you_ ** **_inevitably_ ** **_need proof._ **

_Shane takes a break from reading to look over the_ _file_ _. If it’s a fake, it’s a good fake. Shane’s done Unsolved with Ryan long enough to know what a police file looks like. He frowns and_ _returns_ _to the note._

**_I’ve_ ** **_been staying here with you the past few days, but there’s a family trying to live here man, you’re_ ** **_terrorizing_ ** **_them. I know_ ** **_you_ ** **_big guy, you don’t want to do that to people._ **

**_Anyway, if you can read this, and you (you know) believe me, you_ ** **_gotta_ ** **_give me a sign man, something to work with._ **

**_I get that you’re scared. I’m here for you._ **

**_I miss you. And I love you. And I am so sorry that you died alone._**    
 ** _Ryan._**

_Shane finishes the note and puts it down with shaky fingers._

_It’s_ _gotta_ _be bullshit, right? Some prank they heckled Ryan into? But no. Ryan would never do that. Ryan was too... nice. He had a_ _conscience_ _on him, and this was just..._

_Shane_ _thinks about_ _screaming himself hoarse in the halls every night, trying to feel pain to prove that he’s real. Aching to see something other than these walls. He thinks about wanting to be sure he is sane, because he doesn’t know anymore. Bashing his head against the wall as he tries to make his brain work right again._ _Scratching_ _at the wall, screaming out the windows, crying down the phone line for somebody._

_Anybody._

_Ryan..._

_…._

_Dead?_

_Could he be? Wouldn’t he_ _realize_ _? Remember dying? Ryan always said ghosts didn’t know they were dead, but the end of your life seemed like a pretty significant thing to forget... But then again, it’s not as if his brain was working for him right now, so maybe there was_ _truth_ _to that._

_He turns back to the_ _police_ _file._

_Cyanide poisoning. Cyanide pills found in an_ _aspirin_ _bottle..._

_He_ _frowns as_ _something niggles at the edges of his memory. Like he_ _kind of remembers_ _where he put something, but not enough to tell where_ _it_ _was._

_He_ _turns the_ _page to see a photograph. There is several. One of an_ _aspirin_ _bottle_ _, spilled out on the floor of Ryan’s_ _apartment_ _._

_He_ _knows that_ _carpet..._

_Another one of a body sprawled out on the floor...._

_He was so tall, he took up_ _almost half_ _the hall..._

_His eyes are wide and terrified._

_He was so scared...._

**_And I am so sorry that you died alone._ **

_He died alone._

_He died alone on Ryan’s carpet._

_He died._

_Shane was dead._

_And then the world shattered like glass._


End file.
